


Invited For Tea

by twist_and_ouch (orphan_account)



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, I don’t know how ao3 works, Oral Sex, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/twist_and_ouch
Summary: Paul invites John over so they can have some tea and talk about the upcoming Beatles album. John gets more than he bargained for when he shows up to his band mate’s house..
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Reader, Paul McCartney/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Invited For Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This is awful I’m so so sorry

Drowsy sunlight shone through the window and onto intertwined legs. The late sun’s beams graced and casted shadows onto the belongings that you had situated into you and your boyfriend’s shared living room. The lavish couches and panels basked in the golden rays, books on shelves darkened by the shadow of the shelf above. Music floated through the warm air of the cozy living quarters, the soft smell of grass and fresh linen wafting in through the opened screen window. 

Paul’s thumbs brushed over your shoulders, slowly moving his hands down to your elbows. You shuddered, goosebumps appearing on your arms and thighs. You were lost in your own thought; Paul thought you were lost in a combination of his touch and the record he insisted on playing. The moment was intimate, sensual in a euphoric way. Your boyfriend’s left hand massaged your wrist, the other working on your scalp. You felt yourself melting into his touch. With his skilled and calloused fingertips intertwined in your hair, you found yourself mewling under his hands on instinct. 

The bassist’s body shifted under you. Your back was now pressed against his chest, compared to a few moments ago, when your body was leaning into his squishy side. The fingers that were gently circling your wrist were now holding your abdomen. The sudden change in position made you reach for his head, your hand gently brushing against his five o’clock shoulder. His cheek was soft compared to the irritating stubble that lined the lower half of his face. 

You groaned in complaint. In return, he wrapped a few strands of your h/c hair around his bulky fingers and pulled up sharply. Your eyes rolled slightly, your eyelashes ticking your eyelids. A noise between a moan and whimper was quick to escape past your lips. 

“What was ‘at, darling?” Your boyfriend’s tone was sweet, laced with mockery. His words fell out of his mouth like honey, right to your core. “Would you like me t’ do that again?”

You tried to shake your head no despite your body desperately trying to tell you otherwise. With your hair still balled in the man’s hand, your head stayed stationary. He pulled up again, and your lower half pushed down in contrast. You were taken aback by the friction of his jeans against your crotch; you hadn’t noticed that the lower half of your body had repositioned itself so that you were now sitting atop his thigh. 

The room was now stifling hot. The sun’s patterns on your carpet had now moved toward the both of you, creeping slightly. The record that Paul had put on was now on its last track- the way things were looking, the room wouldn’t be very quiet without the background track. 

Your leg began to snake up his, your knees bending and giving him access to the place where you needed to be touched the most. You gripped his arm with your hand. You tried to untangle his hands from your hair to guide his fingers down to your sex, but your hands retreated down to either side of you when he aggressively yanked your locks, pulling the back of your head into the crook of his neck. 

You hissed as your head was pulled at a neck breaking pace. “Fuck, Paul- pl-eeeease,” you groaned, again, grinding your clothed pussy into his thigh. He angled the leg that you were sitting on so this action could be done with ease. “Please, I’m.. um,”

“What are you?”

“Don’t make me say it-“ you half cried, staring into his eyes through his thick lashes. His hands eased on your hair, fingers slowly making their way down your neck, teasing you as they slid down the side of your arm. Your delicate skin was still riddled with goosebumps, even more so now. 

“You’ll have to tell me what I’m doing to you if you want me to touch you there.” Paul growled into your ear, your body involuntary trembling. His fingernails left small white lines in your skin as he dragged them across your thigh. 

“Dammit,” you paused. “I’m horny, alright? Please.”

Before your boyfriend could bring a sly remark or sweet nickname to the table, the sound of the gravel of your driveway being crushed was painfully clear to the both of you. He paused, looked at his watch, and sighed. 

Paul’s hands were creeping toward your heat, every so slightly. You braced yourself on his lap. “It’s John, luv,” he spoke clearly, nothing but sexual arousal dripping from his words as they hung in the air. John’s Rolls-Royce came to an apparent stop outside of their house, the gravel settling underneath the car’s tires. The man’s left hand was now cupping your pussy, his fingers gently disturbing the thin fabric that was separating his digits and your aching core. “I’m going to finger fuck you, until you’re coming all over my hand. Do you want John to see? Want him to see you such a mess, sprawled across my lap a whimpering and moaning mess?” 

You struggled to move your nether regions away from his palm; but not to much avail. Your fingers dug into the couch as his own slid past your panties, delving into your wet folds. Your body reacted with violent and sporadic movements, your limbs quickly curling and grasping for any part of your boyfriend. You felt yourself slide down his lap from the sheer force he was using to pleasure you; the incoherent garbles and moans that made their way past your lips were enough to keep him aroused. 

Once, Paul joked that your cunt was like the slip ‘n’ slide he used to play on as a kid. The man would have cracked a similar joke if it wasn’t he wasn’t in this situation.


End file.
